Quotes About Tenderness

There are few things so tender as a man's dignity.

My dad is a little bit of a softy. I mean, he, like, cries at 'The Lion King,' and I'm kind of, like, his little girl.

I'm an animal lover.

I love animals. I'm a big animal lover.

He groaned her name as he bent, his mouth so tender, so exquisitely gentle with hers that tears ran hotly down her cheeks. He was the world, and everything in it. She loved him so.

I recommend her to you, not as a husband but as an enthusiastic admirer of her work, acid and tender, hard as steel and delicate and fine as a butterfly's wing, lovable as a beautiful smile, and as profound and cruel as the bitterness of life.

If there is a secular equivalent of standing in a great spired Cathedral with marble pillars and streams of mystic light slanting through two-tier Gothic windows, it would be watching children in their little bedrooms fast asleep. Girls especially.

She is the kind of child who feels a protective tenderness toward her own beginnings. It is part of her strategy in a world of displacements to make every effort to restore and preserve, keep things together for their value as remembering objects, a way of fastening herself to a life.

She is the kind of of child who feels a protective tenderness towards her own beginnings. It is part of her strategy in a world of displacements to make every effort to restore and preserve, keep things together for their value as remembering objects, a way of fastening herself to a life.

We train ourselves to overlook or ignore them; sometimes these failures of character even fill us with a special kind of tenderness that has nothing whatsoever in it of a sense of superiority.

I want to see you again." He stopped, took her face in his hands. "I need to see you again." Her pulse jumped, as if it had nothing to do with the rest of her. "Roarke, what's going on here?" "Lieutenant." He leaned forward, touched his lips to hers. "indications are we're having a romance.

Love creates a communion with life. Love expands us, connects us, sweetens us, ennobles us. Love springs up in tender concern, it blossoms into caring action. It makes beauty out of all we touch. In any moment we can step beyond our small self and embrace each other as beloved parts of a whole.

Hold yourself as a mother holds her beloved child. The Buddha

I love you more than applesauce, than peaches and a plum, than chocolate hearts and cherry tarts and berry bubblegum. I love you more than lemonade and seven-layer cakes, than lollipops and candy drops and thick vanilla shakes. I love you more than marzipan, than marmalade on toast, oh, I love pies of any size, but I love YOU the most.

Nowhere in this novel is exploitation, pain for the sake of pain, or needless cruelty. The entire novel manages to balance its elegant philosophical concerns with also being an amazing feat of human tenderness.

his own crumpled handkerchief on me. I sniffed and dabbed at my eyes fiercely. I told myself I was only tearful because I was tired. I knew Diamond was looking at me anxiously.

Il faut avoir l'esprit dur et le coeur sensible

Mi corazón desde hace días quiere hincarse bajo alguna caricia, una palabra.

Te besaría lentamente, apenas rozándote mis labios, y te diría cualquier cosa en voz baja, y me quedaría dormido a tu lado.

I think that a certain hunger for him came first and was followed by a feeling of tenderness, gradually increasing, for a person who aroused such hunger and then satisfied it. Maybe that was what I felt for him that I thought was love.

Does this ring any bells?' he murmured against her lips. 'I——-' Whatever else she'd been about to say was lost as he kissed her again. His gentleness took her by surprise, and without being fully aware that she was doing it she started kissing him back, just as gently. His hand curved to fit her waist as he murmured something unintelligible, his long fingers sliding with masterful confidence to her ribcage.

Oh! beautiful is the love of youth to youth, and touching the tenderness of womanhood to woman; and fair in the eyes of the happy sun is the waking of holy sleep, and the virgin kiss upon virgin lips smiling and murmuring the sweet "Good morrow!"

Our mouths opened under each other, and the warmth of his sweetened throat poured into mine. I could not think, could not do anything but drink him in, each breath as it came, the soft movements of his lips. It was a miracle.

There had never been a sweeter child. He smelled like honey and just-kindled flames. ...Every moment he was with me, I felt a rushing in my throat, which was my love for him, so great sometimes I could not speak.